The Mishaps of Moving In
by captain-k-jones
Summary: In a rare quiet moment, Killian and Emma decide it is time to take the next step and move in together. They quickly descover that living in the same quarters is not as easy as they thought it would be.


HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY the-lady-of-misthaven . Mona and I collaborated on this and we hope you really enjoy it! You are a wonderful person who we are so honored to know. I am so happy that tumblr has brought us all together and made it possible to become great friends. We hope you have the best of days!

* * *

Renting their own place had been the next logical step, at least that was how Emma explained it to him. He was still unaccustomed to the guidelines of courting in this realm, so he tended to defer to Emma when is came to such matters. They had spent days looking for a place suitable for the two of them and the lad, before Henry had found the advertisement for a small cottage by the beach. Painted a light blue with white shutters, it was a _charming_ place. It had a front porch that faced the sea and three bedrooms for them to make use of. It truly had been perfect for his makeshift family. A week later, the cottage was theirs.

Moving the furniture in had been the easy part, mostly due to the help from Dave and Robin. By midday, they had all of the furniture in the cottage and placed where Emma had deemed appropriate. Now, all that was left were the boxes. The boxes which were haphazardly located in various areas all over the tiny cottage. The boxes that he wanted to unpack and put away as quick as possible so that the house would be clutter free.

Currently, one of the said boxes sat in front of him while another sat in front of Emma as they both put their clothing away. Reaching into the box, Killian pulled out one of his many, newly acquired, dress shirts. He held it out in front of him and carefully folded it down the middle vertically before aligning the sleeves and folding those back. He finished the task by laying the shirt flat on their bed and creasing it horizontally, leaving it on the stack of his other perfectly arranged shirts.

Next to him, Emma grabbed a handful of her own shirts. Walking the short distance to their dresser, she opened a drawer and shoved the shirts inside before returning to the box and repeating the action.

His eyebrow rose as his gaze followed her movements. "Love, isn't it customary to fold one's garments so they do not wrinkle?"

She turned toward him and shrugged her shoulders indifferently. "I just throw them into the dryer in the morning anyway. It takes care of the wrinkles and makes them warm, so there is no point in folding them now."

Eyebrows furrowing, he scratched behind his ear. Putting the clothes in this _dryer_ seemed to add more things for her to do in order to get ready, but who was he to make a judgement? It wasn't as though he'd lived in this realm his entire life.

Returning to his task, he found his collection of boots at the bottom of this particular box. Grabbing a pair, he moved to the closet and opened the door. His head inclined to the side as he encountered a pile of what could only be Emma's footwear on the floor of the closet. It looked as though she'd just dumped the box in there and let the items be.

Crouching down, he carefully began the tedious task of matching each shoe to its mate and setting them neatly on the floor. Perhaps she had been in a rush and had intended on returning to the footwear at a later time. That had to be the explanation, otherwise how did she expect to find which pair she wanted to wear for the day?

Once all the shoes were in a neat and orderly line, he rose and walked back to his box to acquire another pair of boots. Upon arriving to the bed, he found Emma dumping the remaining contents of her box into the drawer for the bedside table. Likely, to be sorted through later.

Turning she caught his eyes and her lips curled into a gleaming smile, one that he returned in kind. It was nice to see her smiling again, and it was nice to be the cause of the smile as well.

* * *

Waking up was supposed to be a pleasant experience, especially when it was a couple's first morning in their new shared space. She _should_ have woken up to Killian's arms wrapped firmly around her waist, to his face buried in her neck, to his warm breath tickling the skin of her neck. But, she didn't. No… She woke up alone in their bed, alone and very _cold._

Taking the blankets into her fists, she burrowed her body into them. It wasn't just cold in their room. Cold she could deal with, cold she was used to after a childhood of threadbare blankets or no blankets at all. She ducked her head under the comforter as her shoulders shook.

It was like antarctica had exploded in their bedroom and, of course, all she had on were her boy shorts and a tank top. She hadn't needed to wear anything more with Killian's body heat surrounding her. Agitation took over her features. Damn Killian. Damn him and his hotter than normal body temp.

She didn't want to leave the bed, to unwrap the blankets from around her body. If she did then she would be cold and she hated being cold, hated the feeling of goosebumps rising on her skin. What made matters worse was that she had to get out of bed. She needed to get the the station, it was her turn more the morning shift and she couldn't be late.

Her eyes narrowed. She had told him to make sure he turned the air off if he woke up before her or, at the very least, to turn the damn thing down. He knew she disliked being cold, she'd borrowed his jacket enough times.

Next to her, the alarm went off on her phone. Great. Now, she had to get out of bed. If she didn't, she would definitely be late. Sighing, she pulled the blankets down slowly to reveal her face. Her eyes scanned the room before landing on her favorite sweater draped across the dresser. It was one of those wool ones that came down mid thigh. She'd had the thing for years. She'd worn it so much that it had a ratty appearance, the red had faded into a pink color, but it was almost like a security blanket to her. Whenever she felt down, she could wrap herself in that sweater with a cup a hot chocolate and feel immediately better.

But, she didn't need to feel better. She needed to feel warm and she knew that her sweater could make that happen as well. She moved quickly, before she could talk herself out of it. The blankets were thrown off of her as she all but sprinted to the other side of the room. Throwing her sweater on with haste, she allowed herself a moment to relax into the warmth her sweater provided.

She rolled her eyes as her alarm continued to sound across the room. What a wake up call. She shook her head. Damn pirate.

* * *

She'd finished her breakfast in record time, now all she needed to do was shower. As she walked down the hallway she stopped briefly at the hall closet to grab some towels. She was still a bit chilly, her sweater had certainly helped, but a nice hot shower would be able to chase the chill from her bones.

When she entered the bathroom she quickly flicked the shower on so the water would be good and ready when she stepped in. Placing the towels on the countertop, she quickly shed her clothes before peeling the shower curtain back.

As soon as the water hit her feet she inhaled sharply, her eyes widened as she gasped. The water felt like ice. Literal ice. There was no hint of warmth at all. For a moment, her body was shocked still, she was powerless to move as the icy spray hammered against her skin.

Her eyes searched the temperature gage and sure enough, it was turned almost as high as it would go. Realization dawned on her. Killian. That pirate had used all of their hot water in his morning shower, leaving her with freezing temperatures.

Slowly, she propelled her body forward. She slammed her hand against the shower valve. The flow of bitter water ceased immediately. Her body shivered as the even cooler air, left over from the air conditioner fiasco, hit her already cool skin.

Her fists clenched at her sides as she tried to reign in her emotions. She shouldn't be mad, she really shouldn't. Living together was going to be an adjustment, they both knew that. It was just… she didn't think she'd have to adjust so quickly, or so violently.

Reaching out, she pulled a towel around her naked form. She ran her fingers through her slightly damp hair. It would have to go into a ponytail today, she didn't have time to wait for the water to heat back up. Using magic was an option, but seeing as all magic came with a price and she felt like she'd already paid enough today, she wasn't willing to risk it.

Reaching the closet she pulled out a nice, warm, sweater and jeans. The sooner she got dressed the sooner she could get to Granny's for another hot chocolate. She threw her ratty old sweater on to the bed on her way out of the room. She would put it away later.

On her way out the door, she stopped and turned the air off completely. At least it wouldn't be cold when she returned from work.

* * *

Eating breakfast as a family in the loft was normally a weekend treat. Dinners together had a bit more regularity. Having dined with Emma and her family frequently, he really should have noticed the trend and he should have realized the habit would transfer over to their new residence.

The modern amenities that this world was afforded made such menial yet important tasks all the more easier to accomplish. That was exactly why he didn't understand why Emma had such an issue with… placing dirty dishes in the convenient appliance whose sole job was to clean those dishes.

Picking up one rather tomato sauce-covered platter from the kitchen counter, Killian inspected it rather closely, wondering how many hours it took for the thick and rich sauce to act as an adhesive to that dish and stick so firmly to it. The truth of the matter was that it had sat there overnight, only worsening the situation. It would cause the need for it, at well as all its mates, to be treated to a pre-wash before going into the machine for a real cleaning.

Holding on firmly to the dish in his hand, Killian took slow and firm steps towards the dishwasher. Flicking his hook just right, he pulled down the door and left in hanging open. By the look of the contents inside, it seemed as if it was Emma's attention to finish loading the dishwasher with the rest of last night's meal before she would begin the cycle of washing. Unfortunately, she hadn't made it to that step. Instead, the racks were filled with dishes pasted with sauce, just like the one in his hand.

Killian lifted a brow as he let his eyes scan the content of the machine, knowing fully well what task he was about to embark on.

He bit the inside of his cheek just then. It was a learning experience, this living together situation. There weren't many things he would want to change about them. Of course not. Emma was… his everything. But…. if he could get her change one thing, just one thing, it would be loading and unloading the _bloody_ dishwasher!

* * *

Perhaps he'd been hasty when it came to the problem with the dishes….

Killian loved the idea of the removal of every stitch of clothing from Emma's body. The thought was enticing, especially when thinking of what enjoyable activities would soon follow. Skin that was hidden under various materials of cloths during the day (and only seen in his imagination) was exposed to him at night. It was the remnants of said undressings that he found himself becoming familiar with just more and more.

Henry, in his fewer years in this world, was more conditioned than Emma was when it came to keeping clothes off of the floor. That was perhaps due to growing up with Regina. Well, it was nice to see the positives that came from that child rearing.

Killian stood in the doorway of the bedroom, his eyes doing a quick sweep of the floor before going back to the dresser and the bed. It could have been worse than the bath towel lying in a damp heap near the corner of the bed, the pajama top thrown on top of the comforter, the bottoms hanging on precariously to the dresser drawer, and the bra strap not quite making it completely in the drawer. No, it could have been a lot worse than what it was…

He wondered what it was like to have the foresight to make a bed when she'd wakened up for the day, only to leave it cluttered with the mess of dirty clothes on top. Especially when there was a dirty clothes hamper only some feet away. A dirty clothes hamper that was probably more often _touched_ by him than even _recognized_ by her.

Moving farther into the room, Killian made his way over to the towel that laid on the floor. His hook was up to the dirty wet job of lifting it from its home. Arm outstretched, it was the first thing to go into the clothes hamper that sat against the wall.

Emma wouldn't be home for hours yet. He was also privy to Henry's plans at being with Regina once school was out of session. So there was time to be filled. Having the dishes already done, Killian knew what was in his immediate future. Looking down into the now filled clothes hamper with the addition of Emma's dirty clothes (and he was sure that there were more in the bathroom), it looked as if today was going to be an impromptu laundry day.

He'd add his own work clothes to the load. That would be _after_ a nice and hot shower, taking away the stress that was trying to build up in his body. By the time the first load of clothes were in the washing machine, it would be time to start on dinner. Perhaps something quick and simple. Perhaps something that didn't call for a dishwasher full of dishes to be left. In that case, maybe, just maybe, the love of his life would feel up to fulfilling her end of kitchen duties.

* * *

It seemed absolutely ridiculous that the moment she stepped into the house, she was greeted by the waft of cold air. Emma rolled her eyes with annoyance as she shut the door tightly behind her. It was the scent lingering about the room that attempted to turn her attention away from the chill in the air. At least dinner seemed to be on its way to being completed. If Killian was anything, it was punctual. For that reason, she wasn't surprised to smell what could be a delicious stew of some sort already simmering from rooms away.

Grabbing at the ends of her sleeves, she pulled at the material until it covered over the palms of her hands. With a quick roll of her shoulders, she began moving towards that scent.

Each step brought with it the breeze from the air conditioner. Emma stopped in her tracks, not having made it too far into the living room. Her attention gravitated towards the A/C unit on the wall. It was a push of a button. If there was one chore that should have been easily mastered, it should have been that one.

She found herself practically running over to the unit, her arms already outstretched in attempts at reaching the damn thing faster. She felt her mouth drop open as she read the temperature Killian had set. Her eyes blinked slowly, mystified by the man's adeptness with near-freezing conditions. When she found him, she was sure it would be in a half-done button-up, chest bared and exposed to the elements. That reminded her...

Turning back around, she started on her way towards the kitchen once again. Emma had half-expected to find Killian hovering over the pot that she, of course, found simmering away on the stove. It put a smile on her face, looking at the job that he had done since being home. Even though that couldn't have been more than two hours, she saw that he had already cleaned up the kitchen before getting the night's meal on. It was almost pristine, the order in which the kitchen was in.

Finally letting go of her sleeve, she slipped over to the stove, her hand already out with anticipation of taking the lid off the pot. Doing just that, she inhaled the aroma of the slightly bubbling thick and rich stew. If there was one domestic duty that she had not been prepared for, it was Killian's mastery of all things dealing with food. Even modernality hadn't stumped him when it came to cooking. For that, she mused as she picked up the spoon lying there on the stove and dug into the pot, she was even more grateful.

She could have lingered, not having eaten since an impromptu lunch at Granny's hours ago, but she didn't. It was the knowledge of Killian being in the house and not having seen him yet that made her put everything back the way she had found it.

Henry wouldn't be home tonight. He was with Regina. That meant that she and Killian had the entire house to themselves. She hadn't seen him since that morning….

Feeling the smile tug onto her face as she unconsciously on her shirt, Emma began moving, making her way out of the kitchen. She had a feeling that she was going to find him upstairs. There was nothing more that she wanted right now than to just be with him.

* * *

"It's freezing."

Killian had heard her coming up the stairs, prompting him to drop the half-full basket of folded laundry onto the bed. Of course it was the comment of the cool temperature of the house that greeted him.

"My apologies, love." One eyebrow shot up as he watched Emma make her way into their bedroom. "It was intentions to turn the air off before you made it home." Killian tilted his head to one side as he watched the way she rounded her shoulders and tug at the sleeves of her shirt.

"Just like you were supposed to this morning?" Emma asked through gritted teeth. A frown took over the features of her face as she moved across the room. Not towards him, but towards her own side. "My sweater?" She stopped mid-step and finally twisted in his direction.

Her sweater? Killian raised his chin slowly towards her and waited for her to continue.

"Have you seen my sweater?" she finally asked. "I left it on the bed this morning."

"Well, actually…" His gaze left hers so that he could glance about the room. "I found it on the floor amongst a few other items."

The frown disappeared quickly from her face, realization dawning on her face.

"It's hanging in the closet," Killian informed her. It wasn't so much an admonishment, but more of a telling truth. "I washed and dried it, and not too long ago hung it up in your closet."

Emma moved then, her steps leading her over to her closet. With her arms hugged around herself, she threw a look his way,

"Thanks." It was only a murmur, and she turned quickly back for her closet. "You left the A/C on, Killian."

He grabbed at the laundry basket by his hook, pulling it back towards him. He tilted his head and pursed his lips as he let her words ruminate over him.

"My apologies, Swan," He turned towards her, watching the way she slipped the sweater on and tugging it into position. "I got preoccupied with laundry and dinner. I haven't been able to place myself back in the living room."

"You did the same thing this morning," Emma reminded him warily.

Killian felt the tug of his lips as they lifted into a smile. Balancing one of her neatly and perfectly folded camisoles with his hook and his hand, he shook his head.

"Aye, I must really get on myself about that," he agreed with her. "Then perhaps you wouldn't have to run to home to that tattered piece of cloth you refer to a sweater, hm?" He dropped the camisole back into the basket of laundry, letting it hit softly on top.

"Wait. What?" A choked laugh followed her astonishment question.

Killian looked across the room at her, taking in the tilt of her head and drawn brows. It was quite easy to move on from those attributes to study the much thought about, but never mentioned sweater. The damned wool fabric nearly swallowed her whole, and she seemed to like it that way

"I was only saying, love, that if I was more attentive to your desires about the temperature of the house, then you would not have to dress in such a manner in your own home." His lips pursed together as he innocently blinked her way.

Emma's own mouth fell open, lips moving yet not speaking. The sheer surprise on her face was evident as she looked right at him.

Had he gone too far? Killian wondered if he had. If her steps towards him was an indicator, he would have to say yes.

"You know what, Killian?" Her hands raised slowly to her hips, her eyes cutting on his. "Passive aggression just doesn't suit you. So…." Emma tilted her head back as she gave him a thorough once-over. "What are you saying?" Her hands cross-crossed over her chest and she grabbed at the fabric even tighter.

She was standing there in front of him, her stance evident of how ready she was for him explanation and how was going to get out of it.

"That tattered piece of cloth that you refer to as a sweater is an absolute abomination, Swan," Killian finally informed her, taking a step closer and putting them face to face. "It's the worst garment that you own, no matter if it's covering you or blanketing either the bed or the floor."

Surprise and confusion marked Emma's face. She crossed her hands over her chest as she peered questioningly at him.

"What does that supposed to mean, Killian?" She tilted her head and her eyebrows snapped together fiercely. "'Blanketing either the bed or the floor?'"

She had every right to ask him. She had every right to question him about the temperature of the room because he already knew she had a penchant for a fairly warm climate. Perhaps it was the other scenarios that he'd walked into that evening that had made him itching to be honest about her bad habits.

"Whenever you choose to put that thing on, you then choose to take it off and leave it wherever you see fit," Killian reminded her slowly, keeping his sigh in and his gaze on her. "Which then leaves _me_ having to come up behind you and place it in its proper place."

Emma chose not to hold in her sigh. Her arms tightened and her eyes fluttered as she let out a deep breath.

"You're tired of having to pick up my sweater-"

"If it was only the sweater-" Killian cut in before she could trivialize the act. He turned away from her, his eyes setting on the laundry basket sitting on the bed. "It's practically any stitch of clothing, Swan." Hooking it once again with his hook, he dragged basket along with him as he moved to the other side of the bed. It was only then, away from her and folded shirt in his hand, that he looked back at her. "You leave them wherever they fall off, be it the bedroom or bathroom-"

"The bathroom?" Emma's eyes widened on him this time, shaking her head. "Do you know what annoys me just as much as you leaving the air on all throughout the day?"

Those insistent eyes told him that she was expecting some kind of answer from him.

"It's the fact that when I _do_ go into the bathroom in the morning, after leaving my _trail_ of clothing as you'd say, the hot water has already been used up by that time by you!" She moved then, making her way to the her side of the bed, standing opposite of him. "So I am stuck shivering for a whole new reason, but still all because of you."

She'd never mentioned that before, but the slight heaving of her chest more than told him that there was some idiosyncrasies that Emma had been holding back as well. He didn't have a comeback for the new annoyance she'd brought up, but he felt compelled to go tit for tat, idiosyncrasy for idiosyncrasy.

"I hate the fact that you don't properly load the dishwasher and you leave an even bigger mess than necessary," Killian shot back. "Not that you can't, but you simply choose not to."

Emma fell down on the edge of the bed, her face the picture of exasperation. "Well, I'm sorry I'm not the neat freak that you are, Killian!"

There was irritation still lurking in her tone, but it only matched his own.

"And I must apologize for leaving you out in the cold," he muttered back.

"Well, the open shirts with only your chest hair to keep you warm should've been a tipping off point for me, I guess," Emma murmured, swinging around completely on the bed to look at him.

He didn't have a shot for that one, the bloody minx! Killian felt the twisting of his lips, unable to keep the smile from appearing there.

He watched the irritation dissipate from Emma's face and felt his own disappearing rather quickly. It was when she huffed out a small laugh, he dropped the basket to the floor beside him and jumped down onto the bed himself.

"Bloody hell, Swan, you are perfect." His eyes roamed appreciatively over the whole of her, loving every single thing about her.

"That's not the feeling that I was getting from you just a moment ago," she reminded him. Still the smile that lifted the corners of her mouth reached to those green eyes of hers. "You do things that irritate me, Killian. The constant running of the air condition is probably the most infuriating."

He kept the grin small as his hand moved over to grab at her waist. Pulling lightly, he brought himself closer to her body and hugged himself close to her.

"But you adore me as well, Swan, that I know for sure."

Emma's gaze slid off to the side the moment he began to pull her closer to him, but she went willingly.

With an easy tilt of her head, the look on her face was classic Emma Swan, a look that took no prisoners and had no time for pandering or utter bull.

"I do _adore_ you, Killian," she finally said, her lips forming a smile once more. "I love you. So…. So I'll deal with all of those… annoying little habits of yours."

"And I," he purred seductively, "do enjoy the perks of your own little quirks, my love." His lips attempted to nibble at a particularly delicate place on her neck. Until…

Her hand gripped at his shoulder, her eyes stern when he looked up at her.

"Perks of my quirks?" she asked with a huff. "What does that mean?"

Killian watched as her quest for answers led her to try to sit up on the bed, pushing her hand down on the mattress and sitting up. He watched the delicious flow of her hair as it slipped this way and that around her shoulders, covering portions of the old piece of cloth that passed as the most comfortable and warm piece of clothing she had.

"Well, explaining myself by telling you is one option," he muttered thickly. He flattened himself on the bed, his back pressing into the mattress. His hook came up to slip a piece of that hair off her shoulder, his eyes glued to the movement the entire time. "Then again…" His lips curled into a satisfactory smile, his eyes held a telling glint. "Showing you can only... accentuate my meaning."

The tilt of her head deepened, her eyes casting a shadow over him. "And how do you plan on showing me?"

"It would help if you could say that you are no longer cold," Killian admitted, bringing his hand up to her shoulder and gripping at her sweater hanging over her shoulder.

He could see the twist of her mouth as she contemplated her response.

"I'm not so cold anymore," she assured him softly. She turned her cheek into his hand, pressing gently there.

"Good."

This time, there was a bit of mischief in her gaze. Slipping away just enough from Killian, Emma let the sweater fall from one shoulder and then the other. Within moments, it was completely off her body. Letting the sweater dangle from her fingers for just a moment, she let it fall off the side of the bed and onto a familiar spot on the floor.

There were so many more… enjoyable thoughts that ran through Killian's mind in that moment of watching her discard more and more clothing. In the grand scheme of things, what was one or two more chores… when this was the payoff?

"Are you sure you're not too cold, love?" he asked, his hand finding and hold onto her bare waist.

Emma's hair became a veil, covering them both as she pressed herself closer to him.

"If you can deal with one of my bad habits in the moment, and I'll admit it is a bad habit, then I can deal with one of yours," she assured him.

She was close, but she could always be closer. Killian moved his hand to wrap his arm around her waist and to drag her closer.

"I've never been quite so thrilled over being open and honest about such matters," he murmured, this time successfully connecting with that elusive skin of her neck.

Openness. Honesty,

He had been quite right, he realized as he felt her hands in his hair. The perks certainly made up for those few bad habits.

* * *

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